


We Wish You a Merry Christmas, Idiot

by MuseofWriting



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: But just barely, Christmas, Drinking, Fluff, Jingle Bell Rock, Klance Secret Santa 2016, M/M, Pining Lance (Voltron), Slow Burn, Snow, Winter, i guess?????, teensy hints of angst but mostly fluff, this got soooooooooo much longer than it should've
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 23:42:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9043646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuseofWriting/pseuds/MuseofWriting
Summary: After saving a town from a Robeast, Keith suggests they have Christmas in space





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for the [Klance Secret Santa](http://klancesecretsanta.tumblr.com/), for [@allhailthepuffinman](http://allhailthepuffinman.tumblr.com/). They requested Christmas/winter theme and fluffy things. I hope you like it!

            Words had always come easily to Lance.

            They spilled out of him, in English or in Spanish, overflowing into midnight rambles and lunch hour rants, chattering through his teeth in quips and observations, stuffing the crevices of conversations with flirts and jokes and one-liners. He lived in constant noise and motion, had grown up in a house where getting out of bed in the middle of the night to stumble sleepily to the bathroom meant running into two of your brothers frying up tostones while in the middle of a Star Trek marathon. Quiet was an unfamiliar bedfellow.

            So of course he chattered through their coms ceaselessly, calling out one-liners to the Galra even if the only people who could hear him were his teammates, dropping encouragement and boasting in equal measure.

            “Hey Keith, I can see you’re really _bringing the heat_ , but can you do _this_?”

            And of course, with that mullet-headed idiot, there was always a chance to insult and one-up him.

            Lance spun Blue in an elaborate maneuver that probably wasn’t _strictly_ necessary, but come on, did you see the look on that Robeast’s face as he dipped out of the air blasting ice like a god of winter? “Totally nailed it,” he crowed. Keith was predictably silent, unless that was his quiet groan that Lance caught, just audible under the creak and snap of the frozen Robeast.

            “Pidge, go for its legs, now while it’s stuck!” Hunk called. Yellow came spiraling out of the sky, finally freed from the net the Robeast had tangled it in. Pidge flew at the metal monster’s knees spitting an electric whip from her lion’s mouth that wrapped around the Robeast’s legs. With a sharp crackle of circuits shorting out and an explosion of sparks that made Blue rear back, its eyes went dark. Hunk brought Yellow around and rammed into its chest, sending it crashing to the ground. It lay quiet.

            Lance whooped into his coms. “Take THAT ya big robotic dud. Yet another win for Team Voltron.” He grinned, glancing up above him to where Red circled, wary the fight was not quite over. “Hey Keith, I say VOL, you say…?”

            “He’s never gonna do it, Lance, let it go,” Hunk said. Yellow was sitting perched on the Robeast’s chest, looking proud of her prize, while Pidge and Shiro cautiously approached its head.

            “I believe he’s teachable, Hunk,” Lance insisted. “I know his hairstyle hasn’t been popular since before he was born but I am nothing if not an eternal optimist.”

            “You know I can hear everything you’re saying,” Keith finally responded, his voice flat. Lance grinned wider. Sooner or later, he _always_ managed to poke Keith enough to get an answer. It was just a matter of when. The sound of his rival’s voice returning a barb was music to Lance’s ears.

            “Alright, everyone, good work,” Shiro broke in. “There’s a town just a couple miles from here – we should probably get Allura and explain to the local population what happened.”

            “Sweet, time to meet the local aliens! You know I bet _their_ hairstyles are _out of this world_.” There were a solid ten seconds of silence.

            “We’re _on_ their world, Lance.” Keith sounded weary.

            “Oh, c’mon, that was a _perfect_ pun you guys—”

            “Let’s just do our job,” Shiro said. Lance sighed dramatically into the coms so they would all hear him, but brought Blue to the ground without complaint. He would train them to appreciate his humor eventually.

 

***

 

            The air was sharp and frigid as the five Paladins and Allura trudged a mile towards the town. They had learned the hard way that descending in a flying castle or giant robot lions could too easily appear to be an attack, so now they preferred to approach on foot if they could. Coran stayed back with the castle just in case things went sideways. None of them had realized quite how cold it would be outside the cozy confines of their lions, and all the Paladins but Shiro had elected to strip off their sweaty armor in favor of more casual wear. Lance kept his hands stuffed deep into his jacket pockets, muttering about not being equipped for this weather. Keith was curling his hands into fists, rubbing his exposed fingers together. Hunk and Pidge both just wrapped their arms around themselves, staring miserably but doggedly ahead to where the town nestled between two mountains, at the end of a steep and winding path.

            “Hurry up, Paladins,” Allura called. “The sun will be gone soon and it’s only going to get colder.” Lance looked back and saw with surprise the sun had sunk nearly to the horizon behind them, hazy through a foggy white sky.

            “Next time, I vote we land the castle closer to the town,” Hunk said behind him, huffing up the steep incline.

            “Agreed,” Keith said, sticking his hands in his armpits.

            “You know your hands would stay warmer if you bought gloves with actual _fingers_ ,” Lance said.

            “Well you don’t have gloves at _all_ ,” Keith shot back over his shoulder. He was half-jogging, right behind Shiro. “So who’s the smarter person here?” Lance gave him an exaggerated look of disbelief.

            “I happen to have a jacket with pockets, which are warmer than gloves anyway. You don’t even have a real jacket! What even is the point of that thing? Are you particularly prone to cold shoulders? You didn’t strike me as the type to hold a grudge.” Keith started to turn back to Lance, murder in his eyes. Shiro, without even looked, grabbed the back of his collar.

            “Guys, the sun is gonna set,” Pidge said, sounding stricken. Her legs were pricked with goosebumps. Keith turned forward again, grumbling. Lance glanced over his shoulder again and started. The sunsets here went quickly, it seemed. There was nothing but a few weak beams of deep yellow sunlight streaking across the ground, throwing the edges of the landscape into deep shadow.

            “Maybe we should just call Coran to come pick us up? We can go by the town tomorrow,” Hunk suggested.

            “We’re already too close to the town, and we have surely caused enough distress to this town already.” Allura said. “We should be able to make the last few minutes in the dark.” As she was speaking, the sun slipped below their sight, leaving nothing but an impression of light against the foggy sky. Lance cursed under his breath in Spanish, flipping up the hood of his jacket and attempting to worm deep inside it.

            “Let’s just keep moving,” Shiro said.

            “What’re the odds they have electric heating?” Pidge muttered to herself.

            They all began to trudge upwards again, keeping their eyes fixed on the darkened trail as it narrowed and steepened until they reached a section of stairs cut into the side of the mountain that forced them to move single file. Keith was right in front of Lance, his hands still shoved into his armpits. A breeze stirred the bottom of his jacket and Lance saw him clench his elbows against his sides, trying to keep the jacket tight to his body. Lance wished he could grab hold of Keith and hold onto him, some extra body heat would be very welcome right now, and whether it was because his lion spit fire or because of all the red or just because Keith seemed constantly to be fired up about something, smashing in a Galra’s face or insulting Lance or showing them all up on the training deck, Lance was willing to bet Keith was one of those people that ran hot all the time, radiating more than their fair share of warmth, the kind of people that were just perfect to cuddle with because it made you feel extra cozy and safe against them, he could imagine how nice it would feel to have Keith warm and bright in his arms—

            Lance blinked, his thoughts derailing. _That_ had been an unsettlingly vivid image. What in the world had possessed him to fantasize about snuggling up against _Keith_ , of all people? If he was insane enough to try he was more likely to get a punch in his ribs than any of the cozy nonsense he had been imagining. He shook his head to clear it, shivering in his jacket. He was cold and tired and wandering through a largely empty landscape on an alien planet; he was probably just craving a little human intimacy. And Keith just happened to be right there, in front of him, jacket rippling across his back in the wind. Wind that, in a sudden gust, snatched off Lance’s hood. There was a burst of cold around his head and he fumbled one-handed for the twisted hood, keeping his other hand stubbornly in its pocket.

            The fluttering touch of something wet and soft against Lance’s nose made him pause. He stopped trying to catch his hood and looked up right as Hunk, eyes fixed on nothing but the stairs, barreled into him from behind and almost sent both of them and Pidge tumbling back down the mountain.

            “What are you doing back there?” Keith turned, irritated, but for once Lance paid him no attention. He was pointing to the sky and laughing like a little kid.

            “Snow!” he exclaimed. Everyone looked up.

            Two moons had started to rise as they’d climbed, and now the world was bathed in a silvery soft light that caught the white flakes as they drifted gently through the air. Lance bounced with excitement and stuck his tongue out, running up a couple steps to try and catch one.

            “ _Lance_ , don’t _eat it_ , what if it’s not like our snow, what if their water is poisonous to humans or acidic or—!” Hunk fretted, but Lance paid him no mind, busy catching another flake, and then the words came pouring out.

            “Oh, man, guys, it’s been so long since I’ve seen snow! I mean, I mostly grew up in Florida, so I think it snowed maybe _once_ there when I was a kid? But I had this one uncle, he’d moved up to Minnesota for work or something, I dunno, but this one year a bunch of us went and joined him for the holidays, we spent Christmas at his house and I had never understood why there were so many songs about Christmas in the snow until that year, all the lights reflecting off the snow and shining through frosted windows were so _pretty_. You know it’s probably getting close to Christmastime back home if they haven’t passed it already…”

            Words had always come easily to Lance. Sometimes, though, they came too easily, spilling over his lips before they reached his brain. He would be willing to admit, at least to Hunk during late night study sessions and extra simulator reps, that he _might_ have regretted one or two of his pick-up lines. Sometimes his brain caught up a few minutes after the worlds had already been tossed into the air. Sometimes their meaning didn’t really even register to him until it was too late. But usually, even as he was inwardly berating himself for saying something a bit less than brilliant, his tongue kept moving, smoothing over the damage. This time, though, the words simply stopped.

            The whole world seemed to go silent. Allura and Shiro turned around to look down questioningly at the abrupt quiet. Lance’s mouth worked, but there were no words to fill it with. For once, he didn’t voice the thoughts clattering around in his brain.

            “Hey, Pidge,” he said finally, much quieter. “How long has it been since we left?” She kept closer track of the days than any of them.

            “A little less than three months,” she said, frowning at Lance. “So yeah, I guess it’s about to be Christmas.”

            “Oh,” Lance said, quiet, and tugged the hood back over his head. He started marching up the stairs again, but had to stop before getting very far. Keith was only a couple steps above him, watching and blocking the path.

            “What’s up with you?” he demanded as Lance paused in front of him.

            “Nothing, I just… hadn’t realized. Let’s keep moving, guys,” Lance said. His voice was subdued. Why paint the picture in his head for everyone here? Why spill out the sudden vision of his family sitting around a Christmas tree, smiling and joyful and trying not to let his absence ruin their holiday?

            “Why’d you just go quiet all of a sudden?” Lance’s hands left the safety of his pockets to reach up and shove irritably at Keith, trying to get him out of the way.

            “Maybe I just ran out of things to say! What’s your problem, man, it’s cold out and I want to get a move on.”

            “You _never_ run out of things to say,” Keith replied flatly. Lance stopped trying to shove him to the side and looked up at Keith’s face from under his hood. The stairs put Keith almost a full head above him, and Lance was oddly struck by how unusual it was to see his face from this angle. He was frowning down at Lance, raised shoulders smushing that dumb jacket up against his ears and his arms crossed awkwardly high against his chest to keep his fingers stubbornly in his armpits. Flakes of snow were starting to stand out against his black hair. Lance watched one land in his bangs, right above his eyes, and felt an odd urge to reach up and brush it away. He sighed.

            “I just hadn’t thought about spending Christmas… not at home. That’s all,” he said, bringing his hands up to his mouth to blow some warmth on them. “It’s weird to have a year without Christmas.” He shoved his hands back into his pockets and ducked his head again, watching Keith’s feet and waiting for them to move.

            “Well, we should just have Christmas ourselves then. In the Castle,” he said. Lance looked up, his eyes wide with wonderment, and reached up and grabbed Keith’s face between his hands. “Y– JESUS your hands are cold, what the hell—”

            “Keith,” Lance said. “Buddy. Mullet-man. That is the most intelligent thing you have ever said.” Keith stared at him. “This is gonna be _awesome_. Hunk can make Christmas dinner, we can buy presents in town here, we can go caroling to the lions…”

            “Lance.” Keith said. “Lance, you can… you can let go of my face, now.” Lance’s words screeched to a halt as he realized he was still cupping Keith’s cheeks between his hands, and he whipped them back into his pockets faster than a blink. Keith was staring at him, a small crease between his eyebrows, his cheeks unusually rosy from the cold. Lance stuttered as he tried to get back on track.

            “Right, sorry, but _guys_. This is gonna be _so much fun_ you guys. What do you think?”

            “I _think_ we need to discuss your ‘Christmas’ later and get to the town before we all freeze to death,” Allura said. Lance jumped guiltily. “But,” she added, her face softening, “if this is some Earth celebration that is important to you, I am sure we can arrange something.” Lance pulled his hand out of the safety of his pocket one more time to fist pump.

            “YEAH! Christmas in space, guys!”

            “Now let’s go before Coran has to rescue us all from hypothermia?” Shiro said.

 

***

 

            The town turned out to consist of many low-ceilinged stone buildings, many of them built into the sides of the mountains and descending into underground basements. The local aliens were all around Pidge’s height, covered in thick, well-groomed fur, had between one and three tails, and seemed equally comfortable on four legs and on two. They were waiting at the head of the trail, cautious but curious in their welcome. Their eyes wigged Lance out a bit – they all had three of them and it took a minute to figure out they even _were_ eyes, since they didn’t appear to have irises, but were rather various shades of blue with spokes of yellow running across them – but they took one look at the shivering Paladins and ushered them all inside to some kind of town hall where a fire was crackling with warmth. The Paladins flung themselves down on the piles of thick rugs laid out around the fireplace with sighs of relief while Allura and Shiro talked with a small group of the aliens. Lance hummed gently, feeling returning to his toes, and leaned back to see Keith perched somewhat awkwardly at the end of the rug next to him. The snowflakes were beginning to melt into his hair.

            “Hey,” Lance said. “You’ve got—” He gestured awkwardly upward, but his angle made it hard to make his meaning clear. Keith frowned down at him.

            “What?” he asked.

            “It’s— here, I’ll just—” Before he thought about what he was doing, Lance had scooted back, shifted up onto one elbow, and reached up to brush the white dusting of snow off of Keith’s head. Keith stared at him. Lance, his cheeks suddenly burning, dropped his hand. “Sorry. Snowflakes in your hair. You don’t want to get your hair wet and get a cold, you know, you don’t want to be sick over Christmas.” Keith continued to stare at him, unblinking, his cheeks still red from their chilly hike. He had stripped the snow-wet jacket off and Lance was suddenly hyper aware of how close he was to Keith’s chest, of the shape of his shoulders under nothing but a black t-shirt, of the fact that he was looking up at Keith for the second time in one day, seeing all the planes and angles of his face from a strange new perspective, shimmering with the firelight. He wasn’t sure why all of that would make him stutter the way it did. “S-sorry, man, just trying to help, you know,” he said, trying to fill the moment between them with levity. Keith still didn’t reply. It was like he had frozen. His hands were unmoving on his lap, halfway through peeling off one of his gloves. “Hey, Keith, buddy, you still working in there? All that cold freeze up your brain?”

            “No more than it did yours,” he finally answered. Lance breathed a tiny sigh of relief. There was the Keith he knew.

            “You’re _welcome_ ,” he said, dramatically dropping back onto his rug, soaking up the light and heat from the fire.

 

***

 

            They ended up spending the night on the rugs next to the blessedly warm fire, once Allura sent Coran word that the locals were friendly and insisted they get to host the Voltron team at least for the night. Coran stayed with the castle still, just to be safe, but joined them for breakfast the next morning. The aliens – who called themselves Kippians – served up some kind of thick, salty stew that sat warm and filling in their bellies for hours after they finished eating it. Over breakfast, Lance started explaining Christmas to the Alteans and the curious Kippians that gathered around to listen.

            “—and usually you get a pine tree and decorate it, I guess we’ll have to skip on that part, but we should still definitely see if we have anything to use as tinsel or Christmas lights that we could put up around the castle—”

            “We need to set a date for this to happen,” Pidge broke in. “I’d need to check my calendar back at the Castle to be sure, but I think actual Earth Christmas might be _tomorrow_ , so, do we want to try and get all this done before then, or—”

            “That isn’t _nearly_ enough time to get into the Christmas spirit!” Lance said, appalled. “Pidge, why didn’t you tell me before now that we were getting so close to Christmas? This is terrible, I can’t believe how much we’ve missed—”

            “Why don’t we celebrate it four days from now?” Shiro asked. “That should give us enough time to see if we can put a few decorations up in the castle and maybe think of some gift ideas, and it would be a good break for all of us.”

            “Only _four days_?” Lance whined. He melted under Shiro’s stern look. “Fine. Though really Christmas should be celebrated for at _least_ a month.”

            “Well, in the meantime, we should probably get back to the Castle,” Allura said. “We have imposed on the Kippians long enough as it is—”

            “Excuse me,” one of the Kippians broke in, “but would you like to take a tree first?”

 

***

 

            The Kippians, it turned out, were more than happy to continue to host the Voltron team, and once news of plans for their “alien celebration” got out, they absolutely refused to let them leave until they had first learned everything about it. The day turned into an extended shopping trip: Lance would describe something (pine trees, tinsel, fairy lights, tree ornaments), the Kippians would huddle together and mutter to each other, and then a few minutes later the entire Voltron team would find themselves being ushered this place or that and proudly handed something that ranged from being pretty spot-on (they really did have something indistinguishable from a pine tree), to a complete miscommunication (trying to explain Christmas lights got Lance a handful of tiny bioluminescent mushrooms). Eventually all the Paladins got into it: Hunk started asking questions about the local food and spices, probing for how he might make a Christmas dinner, Pidge started talking with Coran about how she could rig up some lights from the Castle into a Christmas display, Shiro somehow ended up fielding questions from both Allura and a horde of Kippians about the history of the holiday, and Lance took point on planning the decoration of the Castle. Only Keith hung back, silent at the edge of the group.

            By the end of the day, there was a tree standing in the center of the Castle hall, Pidge was furiously at work with a collection of extra lights from the storerooms, and somewhere along the way it had been determined that they would be staying until after their celebration was over. Lance went to bed grinning, watching the snow that had continued to fall on and off all day slowly cover the world in a blanket of white.

 

***

 

            “Pass me those lights, would you?” Pidge called down. Keith was standing at the bottom of the tree, his feet tangled in a questionably safe string of lights, trying to feed them up to Pidge, who was balanced with her feet hooked into the bars of a ladder and leaning precariously out to loop them around the branches. Hunk, busy hooking wires through some brightly colored toys they’d found to stand in for ornaments, had stopped working to watch nervously. Lance stood several feet away, hands raised like a conductor and shouting instructions.

            “A little higher Pidge, they’re too close to the – there! That’s perfect! Now just one more loop…”

            “Please, _please_ be careful,” Hunk called, unconsciously twisting the wire in his hands. Pidge grinned down and gave him a thumbs-up.

            “You know me!” she called. “Keith, pass up that last batch of lights!” He tossed them up to her and she caught them expertly out of the air. Tongue between her teeth, she leaned as far out as her legs’ grip on the ladder would let her, and tossed the lights around the top reaches of the tree. Crowing in triumph, she swayed back, grabbing the ladder, and then scrambled down it and hit the switch.

            The tree lit up in a kaleidoscope of color, red and blue and green and pink and yellow winking at them from between the thick green needles. Lance called for someone to turn off the regular lights, and Pidge scrambled to do it, plunging the Castle hall into darkness save for the gently shining tree. The lights made patterns, reflecting off the silvery walls, scattering color everywhere. All four of them went quiet with amazement. Lance turned with a grin to his teammates but suddenly stopped, because the spectacle of the tree was nothing next to the look of wonder on Keith’s face.

            He knew full well that Keith wasn’t really the brooding, angry person he appeared to be at first encounter. He had a smile that lit up his face like the sun. He cared, passionately, about everything Voltron stood for. If he wanted to, he could match Lance dumb insult for dumb insult. But he had a habit of slipping back into that thoughtful, unreadable, unapproachable face, of sliding to the back and staying quiet unless there was something to fight about. Lance had never seen him look like _this_.

            Keith’s entire face was open, innocent and unsuspecting. He stared at the tree with childish awe, the same kind of look Lance had seen in his baby sister’s face the first time she had seen the ocean. The same expression he had made the first time one of his older brothers put a telescope to his eye and showed him the stars.

            “It’s beautiful!” Allura gasped from the doorway. Everyone jumped, the moment broken. Lance’s eyes were torn away to where Allura and Shiro stood in the doorway, and when he glanced back, Keith had schooled his expression back to normal. Reality settled heavily in Lance’s stomach with an inexplicable feeling of loss. “I understand why you were so excited about this, Lance.” She smiled warmly at him. Swallowing the strange heaviness, Lance flashed her a grin.

            “You haven’t seen the half of it yet, Princess,” he said. “Hunk, how are those ornaments coming?”

            “Oh— almost done!” Hunk said. “We could put them up this evening.”

            “That means we have tomorrow to get everyone presents,” Shiro said, setting down a box. “I managed to find wrapping paper in town, so it’s here for everyone to share. I had to fend off six more boxes of it on my way back to the castle – the Kippians are almost as excited about this as Lance.”

            “Heck yeah! Who doesn’t get excited about _Christmas_?” There was some general laughter as the lights got switched back on, Shiro sat down to help Hunk finish putting the ornaments together, and Pidge and Allura moved to start putting tinsel up around the hall. Lance, turning to go help them, caught sight of Keith one more time. He was staring at the tree, his face as unreadable as ever, but Lance could’ve sworn he saw something softening in those dark eyes. He remembered, abruptly, the feeling of Keith’s cheekbones beneath his hand, the shocked look on Keith’s face as he pulled it level with his own. He remembered how strangely unwilling he had been to let go.

            He shook his head and moved to go help Hunk. Keith was not the boy to think those sorts of thoughts about. It would do no good to dwell on how much that look of open awe had broken open Lance’s heart.

 

***

 

            “Rockin’ around the Christmas tree have a happy holidaaaaay! Everyone dancin’ merrily in the new old-fashioned way… You will get a sentimental feeeeeeling, when you heeeeear, voices singin’ let’s be jolly DECK. The halls with boughs of hooooooolly—”

            “What are you doing.” Lance looked through the branches to see Keith staring at him, holding some fuzzy red and blue ball.

            “It’s a crime to trim the tree without Christmas music, but since none of us brought Christmas music with us, I’m providing it,” he said, winking. Keith’s expression didn’t change an inch. “C’mon, Keith, tis the season, sing with me! Iiiiiit’s beginning to look a lot like CHRIST-mas… Eeeeeeverywhere you gooooooo…”

            “I don’t sing,” Keith said. Lance rolled his eyes.

            “ _Everyone_ sings at Christmas,” he said, plucking another ornament from the pile. “Doesn’t matter if you’re _good_ at it or not. How else are we going to go caroling for the lions later?”

            “Please tell me you aren’t serious about that,” Pidge said. Lance turned, his eyes wide in false shock.

            “ _Pidge_! I am _perfectly_ serious about that! How can you suggest leaving our lions out of the celebration?”

            “I’m with Keith. I don’t sing.”

            “Oh, come on, you guys. Hunk, Shiro, let’s show ’em how it’s done. Jingle Bell Rock, _Mean Girls_ style, right now.”

            “Not a chance.”

            “Shiroooooo,” Lance whined. “Hunk, c’mon, you’re my best bud, you’ve gotta sing with me.”

            “I’m pretty sure I cannot do that dance,” Hunk said.

            “You’re dead to me, Hunk.” Lance spun away from the tree to the center of the room. “Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock. Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring.” Lance swung his hips around in a circle. “Snowin, and blowin’ up bushels of fun,” he dropped and slapped his thighs, grinning wickedly as everyone rolled their eyes and went back to putting up their improvised ornaments. “Now the jingle hop has begun! Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock.” He pushed himself around in a circle, one step on each phrase, twisting his hips like a pro. “Jingle bell chime and jingle bell time—”

            “What are you _DOING_?” Lance froze mid-sway. Keith had gone red in the face and was staring furiously at Lance.

            “I thought we already answered that question,” he said, genuinely confused. Keith shook his head violently, bangs whipping across his eyes.

            “I know you’re _singing_. But what— _what is that dance_?”

            “ _Mean Girls_ , dude,” Lance said in surprise. “I said that.”

            “The fuck is _Mean Girls_? Why are you— why are you dancing _like that_ to a _Christmas song_?”

            “The fuck is— _DUDE_. Keith. Have you never seen _Mean Girls_?”

            “Do I seem like I’ve seen _Mean Girls_?”

            “ _Everyone’s_ seen _Mean Girls_!” Lance said, horrified. “Okay, that’s it, sorry Allura but the universe is going to have to wait — we are taking this ship back to Earth until Keith gets some culture.”

            “You— you get— culture—” Keith spluttered, unable to form a coherent comeback. Why was he so red? Had suggestive dancing to a Christmas song really upset him so much?

            “Dude, sorry if I like, insulted your religion,” Lance said. “It’s just a pop song, I’m not going to swing my hips around to _Silent Night_ , or anything.” Keith went red to his ears. He spluttered over a few more fragments of words, then dropped the ornament, turned on his heel, and practically ran from the room. Lance turned to the other Paladins. Pidge was visibly trying to hold back laughter. “What did I do?” he asked. Coran was more fascinated by the pine needles than anything that had just happened, but all the rest were staring at him with oddly contorted expressions on their faces. “Pidge? What… What just happened? Did I actually upset him?” The laughter let loose in a torrent, leaving Pidge gasping for breath. “Guys?”

            “You’re fine, Lance,” Hunk said. “I think Keith was just… uh, just surprised.”

            “Why are you all _smiling_ at me like that?”

            “We’re just enjoying your dancing,” Shiro said. Lance looked between all of them, but none of them seemed willing to give up a straight answer.

            “Well, it would be more fun if you’d _join in_ ,” he said, sullenly grabbing another ornament to stick on the tree.

 

***

 

            Keith didn’t come back until all the ornaments were up and Coran had brought nunvil for everyone. When he did, he steadfastly refused to look Lance in the eye for almost an hour. But with nunvil hot in their heads and their blood, the awkward and uncertain tension dissipated, and all the Paladins all found themselves lounging about chairs and sofas they’d dragged into the hall, admiring their handiwork. The tree stood tall above them, sparkling with lights and ornaments and even a messily crafted star up top. Tinsel looped around all the doorways, and a big green and red MERRY CHRISTMAS sign hung across one wall. They laughed and drank and told stories of the strangest gifts they’d ever received.

            “—and then, when I opened it, it turned out to be a centrifuge. Like a _really nice_ centrifuge. ‘This is really… really nice of you, and it looks super expensive, so thank you, but… what am I supposed to do with it?’ He tells me he thought it would be useful in my _lab_. ‘Lab, what lab?’ It took like ten minutes before we figured out that, somewhere along the way, he’d gotten the impression I was in school to become a biologist. I have _no idea_ how he got that in his head,” Shiro said. “It was the weirdest thing. I had to explain about the Garrison and… I’ve spent my entire life trying to become an astronaut, I really have no idea how this happened. And then we were left with this, this centrifuge – who _buys that_ for someone?”

            “Inattentive cousins, apparently,” Allura laughed.

            “Apparently.” The conversation lulled softly, lapsing into that kind of comfortable quiet that people share when they don’t need words to be together. Even Lance kept his mouth shut, sipping nunvil and admiring the winking lights on the tree, before, almost without realizing it, he began to hum. It was a soft sound, living in his chest, practically inaudible at first. He wasn’t even paying attention to what song he was humming until Hunk quietly picked up the lyrics.

            “I’m dreaming tonight… of a place I love… Even more than I usually do… And although I know, it’s a long road back, I promise you…”

            “I’ll be home for Christmas… you can count on me…” Shiro joined, his voice smooth and calm. “Please have snow, and mistletoe…

            “And presents under the tree…” Pidge jumped in, her voice shifting higher than she normally spoke. Her glasses reflected the colorful lights as she stared forward, face quiet and unreadable.

            “Christmas Eve will find me… Where the love light beams…” Lance sang.

            “I’ll be home for Christmas… If only in my dreams…” the Paladins sang in unison. Lance looked over at Keith, who was cradling a cup of nunvil in both his hands. Something too big for his skin stirred in his chest, and he wasn’t sure whether it made him want to cry or laugh but more than anything he just knew he wanted to hold onto the music. “Christmas Eve will find me, where the love light beams…” It was suddenly _very important_ that Keith was part of this moment. Nunvil ran like fire in his veins. Without thinking, without letting himself think, he reached over and grabbed Keith’s hand. He jumped, almost spilling his drink, and looked up wide-eyed at Lance, who held the eye contact, not daring to think about what that meant, and sang straight to him. “I’ll be home for Christmas… If only in my dreams.”

            Their eye contact held for a moment of silence in the wake of the song before Lance recoiled, knowing that his more sober morning self was going to seriously regret it if he didn’t. He lay back and stared at the lights on the tree so hard his eyes watered. Or at least, that was the reason he told himself. The silence hung soft and heavy and shared, the words of their song lingering in the air.

            “Well, I was up all night putting those lights together for you, so I’m gonna get some sleep,” Pidge said eventually, standing up and stretching. “See you all in the morning.”

            “I’m right behind you,” Hunk said. “I need to be awake if I’m going to figure out how to make Christmas dinner without accidentally poisoning us all.”

            “We should all probably head to bed,” Shiro said. Allura and Coran stood too, casting one last look of admiration at the Christmas tree, and slowly they all drifted off.

            “Hey, Lance, you coming?” Hunk called over his shoulder. Lance groaned dramatically and flipped onto his belly.

            “In a minute,” he said, voice muffled by the cushions. “Comfy.”

            “Don’t fall asleep there.” Lance heard his footsteps retreating down the corridor and sighed deeply into the pillow. He had been right: Keith did run hot. He imagined he could still feel the warmth of his hand, limp with surprise in Lance’s own.

            When had it changed? When had wanting to compete with Keith turned into wanting to share their joys and triumphs and challenges together? When had he stopped finding the mullet stupid and started to imagine running his fingers through it? When had he first wanted to Keith to notice him, _really_ notice him, when had a look from Keith become a moment to treasure? Or had it always been like this, and he was just so thickheaded he hadn’t managed to notice?

            “Lance?”

            Lance jumped nearly a foot in the air, feeling like he’d gotten a shock from Pidge’s bayard. He fell off the sofa, arms tangled in a pillow that was still shoved against his face, and fell again trying to scramble to his feet. Keith was standing above him, watching all this with his lips parted slightly in surprise. When he finally managed to get back to his feet, hugging the pillow to his chest, Lance glared at him.

            “What the hell was that? I thought you’d gone to bed already! Don’t scare me like that, man.” Keith stared at him and licked his lips uncertainly. Lance wanted to sink through the floor, straight through the Kippians’ planet, and out into space.

            “I was just… I was just going to ask if you… if you were done with your nunvil.” Keith said, gesturing to Lance’s cup, still on the table. Lance snatched it up and drained the last sip.

            “Good thing I wasn’t, I need it to settle my nerves now,” he said grumpily. Keith was watching him silently, a slight crease between his eyes. “Now I’m done.”

            “I was… I can take it back to the kitchen for you,” Keith offered, holding out a hand. Lance hesitated.

            He felt it again, that something too big to be contained in one measly human heart was bursting to get out of his chest. It was a swell of emotion that climbed into his throat, and he heard himself saying, “Hey, Keith…”

            “Yeah?” Lance looked up and met his eyes, open and curious and waiting, and he felt all the things he wanted to say building, building in his chest and his mouth, but he couldn’t say any of them because he couldn’t let Keith know about any of it, couldn’t tell him how badly he wanted to reach out and grab that outstretched hand and pull him close, because he couldn’t take the laugh or the punch that he knew had to follow, but he’d already started speaking and his tongue was going to finish the sentence one way or another so he heard himself saying, “Have you really never seen _Mean Girls_?” and he wanted to kick himself in the face. Keith’s expression seemed to dim just slightly.

            “I haven’t seen that many movies at all, really,” he said. “It was never… My foster parents mostly put on whatever they had to shut me up, so I never paid much attention.”

            “Oh,” Lance said, and shut his mouth, because anything else was going to just make everything worse. Keith waited a moment more, and Lance realized he still had his hand outstretched for the cup. “Oh right— sorry, here, thank you,” he said. Their fingers brushed as he handed it over, and Lance let go just a little too slowly, but even once he did, there was an odd moment where neither of their hands moved, both just balancing the empty cup between them, and Lance felt words struggling at the end of his tongue again, waiting to get out and be heard, and he was taking in a breath to say something, anything, because maybe, just maybe it was a risk worth taking, when Keith’s hand moved away.

            “Well, goodnight,” he said. He turned and left without waiting for an answer. Lance didn’t even manage to call “goodnight” after him. It couldn’t escape around the tower of words left unsaid.

 

***

 

            The next morning, Allura distributed some Kippian currency that she had traded for a couple Arusian artifacts with strict instructions that they were to buy presents _fairly_ , for the actual price, and not take advantage of the Kippians’ continuing awe of the Paladins. Coran handed out Altean winter coats and hats he’d dug up from the Castle Storeroom: poofy white jackets with linings and trim matching the color of the lions.

            The team scattered out the doors into the snow-covered town. Lance hummed to himself, grinning widely, enjoying the sound of the snow crunching and groaning under his feet. “I’mmmmm dreaming of a whiiiiiiite Christmas,” he sang, chuckling. Who knew to get one he just had to fly millions of light-years away into space?

            Still singing softly to himself, he ducked into the first store he came to, a blast of earthy heat hitting him in the face. An eager Kippian raced on all fours to greet him and insisted on showing him all around the shop. He finally bought a fiddle game that reminded him of a Rubik’s cube – Hunk would enjoy it. He had to spend an extra ten minutes persuading the Kippian to actually take his money, and another fifteen assuring him that Voltron was happy to be of service and there was really no need to thank them (although, of course they _appreciated_ a planet that was happy to celebrate their achievements, he couldn’t resist adding). The clear, cold air that blasted his face as he finally exited the store was welcome after the stuffy interior. It was warmer today than it had been on that awful cold hike up the mountain, with a bright blue sky and the sun shining down. Lance pulled off his hat, stuffing it in his pocket, and dropped his head back, closing his eyes and soaking in the sun. “May your dayyyyys be merryyyyyyy, and briiiiiiiiiight…” he murmured, feeling an uncontrollable smile stretching his face. He opened his eyes again and, tossing the purse idly in his hand, looked around eagerly for the next shop to visit. Instead, a flash of red caught his eye.

            Keith was standing in a shaded corner beneath the eaves of a pharmacy-like shop, rubbing his own purse nervously between his fingers – he _still_ had those ridiculous fingerless gloves on – and staring around the town with a wild, cornered look in his eye. Lance felt his heart pounding, climbing from his chest into his throat, and he tried to tell himself it was a bad idea but, as usual, his tongue beat his brain to the punch.

            “Yo, Keith, what’s up?” Keith jumped, turning to look at Lance. He stammered awkwardly about trying to decide where to go as Lance’s feet – against his own better judgment – crunched across the snowy path to reach him. He planted himself firmly a couple feet away. “You need some help? You look a little worried.”

            “I… I just… I’m just… I’m trying to…” Lance watched in a confused combination of worry and amusement as Keith’s face crumpled.

            “Are you okay?” he asked. “Spend all your money on one present or something? Wanted to get something extra special just for me?” _Shut the fuck up, Lance, you absolute idiot_. Keith went red and Lance unconsciously bent his knees, ready to run if the guy tried to punch his dumb mouth.

            “I don’t really know how to buy people presents,” Keith muttered, pointedly not looking at him. Lance laughed, a burst of nerves exiting his chest.

            “Oh, c’mon, man, no one’s going to be looking for anything very special. Look, this is what I got for Hunk. Just simple dumb stuff like this is fine.” Keith still wouldn’t look at him. “Are you really that concerned about it? Look, why don’t we do some shopping together? I can help you pick stuff out for Hunk and Pidge since I know them better.” Keith turned to look at him at that, his eyes widening. Lance kept a grin plastered on his face, but he barely managed to hear Keith’s response over the roaring in his ears. _Why why why why why would he suggest something like that why why why…_

            “If you… That would be… Thanks, Lance,” Keith muttered, and his eyes immediately dropped away again.

            “Alright!” Lance said. “Let’s go, man!” Before Lance had paused a second to think about what he was doing, he had hooked his arm through Keith’s as if they were a couple and was half-leading, half-pulling him along down the street, trying very, very hard to ignore the burning sensation on his cheeks.

            He let go of Keith’s stiff and awkward arm at the first likely shop he spotted, opening the door and ushering him inside. A tiny sigh of relief escaped him as he tried to quiet his heart, which felt like it was attempting, very audibly, to escape his ribcage. Slightly calmer, he ran to the window display that had caught his eye, grabbed one of the objects off the shelf, and thrust it into Keith’s face.

            “Here, look at this!” he said, a little too loudly. He tried to inconspicuously take a deep breath and calm himself down before continuing. Keith was staring cross-eyed at Lance’s hand, far too close to his face. Lance pulled back a little bit. “Check it out, they’re like, mini-models of the houses here or something. Hunk would _love_ something like this.”

            “Yeah?”

            “He loves knowing how stuff fits together, you know? He wasn’t that kid who, like, destroyed clocks trying to take them apart and rebuild them – that’s more Pidge’s style – but he’ll get the schematics for an engine and spend _hours_ looking over them until he understands what every part is used for.” Keith took the model carefully from Lance’s hand – Lance felt the half second of contact between their fingers so acutely it hurt – and examined it, bringing it up to his face to look closely at its every angle, trying to get his eye close enough to see through the tiny replica window without actually touching the model. Lance couldn’t help it: he laughed.

            Keith moved the model away from his face lighting fast. “What?” he asked. Lance, mortified, covered his big fat mouth and tried to wave off his reaction.

            “Sorry, man, you were just – you were inspecting it like it was… the most convincing piece of counterfeit you’d ever encountered in a career of arresting counterfeiters. Usually I only see you look that focused if you’re trying to cut something in half with your sword. It was funny to see you looking so closely at this little toy model, is all.” Lance flashed what he hoped looked like a carefree smile. Keith, to his astonishment, smiled back.

            “It’s kinda cute,” he said, holding up the model house. “You really think Hunk would like it?” Lance nodded numbly, trying to breathe deeply and not let the heat he felt building in his chest climb into his cheeks. A smile that lit his face up like the sun indeed. Keith had turned to the Kippian store owner and was asking about price as Lance bit his lip, watching the back of Keith’s head.

            He flirted freely, and sometimes carelessly, but always sincerely. Even if he regretted some of his more impetuous pick-up lines, he always _meant_ them. But sincerity was easy when it was only about getting a drink and chatting for an hour. Lance wasn’t sure what, exactly, he wanted from Keith, but he knew that a cheesy pick-up line felt… wrong, somehow. It felt too shallow, too lighthearted for a boy who made his heart pound with a brush of a bare finger. But that left him stuck, because if he couldn’t flirt and he didn’t dare confess, he had no idea how to talk to this boy.

            Keith was turning back to him, so he stuck a grin back on his face, internally screaming at his arms to control themselves and not to go slinging around Keith’s shoulder or hooking his elbow or any of the other things he wanted to do. Keith was smiling again, holding up his purchase proudly, asking where they would go next, and Lance heard himself stuttering a reply about checking out what else was on this street.

            The next couple hours were a blur of shops and eager little Kippians and snow. Lance ran eagerly from place to place, Keith following hesitantly and pausing in each doorway. Lance would turn and wave for him to follow, already in conversation with a Kippian or two about what their shop sold, looking for inspiration. Finding something appropriate for Pidge proved harder than Lance had expected: it wasn’t easy to buy presents for someone who spent most of their time fidgeting with high-tech gadgets when you were on a planet that hadn’t yet developed electricity. But they found other presents along the way: some Kippian jewelry for Allura, and a good-luck charm carved with images from various local folktales for Coran. As they exited the charm shop, right as they were coming out a door, a pile of snow detached from the roof and slid down with a rumble straight onto Keith’s head. Lance turned to see him standing frozen and shocked with a mess of white covering his hair and jacket, and burst into laughter. Keith brushed snow away from his face with the back of his hand. At the comically surprised look on his face, Lance laughed so hard that tears came to his eyes and he raised a hand to wipe them away. In the split second that his eyes were closed something cold and wet broke across his face with a _thwap_. He went quiet with surprise, opening his eyes and spitting out a mouthful of snow. Keith had another snowball ready and whacked him in the shoulder before Lance could react. Lance whooped – oh, it was _on_ – and scooped up a handful of snow as fast as he could, barely patting it into a ball before hurling it. Keith ducked and the snowball broke against the doorframe. Damn, he had fast reflexes. Lance dove sideways to avoid the three snowballs Keith hurled at him in quick succession, frantically patting snow together in his palm as he went. He ran full tilt and managed to circle Keith enough to catch him on his side as Keith turned to throw another snowball at him. Lance let that one hit him – it went low, onto his hipbone – in order to throw a perfectly aimed hit that smacked wetly against the side of Keith’s head, sticking to his hair and his ear. Keith yelped with the cold and barreled towards Lance, who panicked, rooted to the spot.

            “Hey wa—” Keith tackled him straight into a snow bank, freezing cold snow falling into the back of Lance’s jacket and down his neck. He shrieked, wrestling Keith, trying to shove him into the snow beside him, but Keith pinned his arms, half-kneeling onto his legs, making Lance sink down into the bank. Finally, he stopped struggling and lay there panting. Keith leaned down, far, _far_ too close to Lance’s face, and he _grinned_.

            “I win,” he said, wicked satisfaction in his voice, and then abruptly he stood up, leaving Lance half-buried in the snow and afraid his heart was going to explode. He groaned at Keith from where he lay.

            “That’s not how you win a snowball fight, mullet,” he said. Keith was still smiling, picking up with bags of presents they had dropped, as Lance shoved himself back to his feet and tried to brush the snow off his legs and arms. “And you still have snow in your hair,” he muttered, blowing warmth on his numb hands. Keith froze, back to Lance, and it was a strangely long moment before he reached up and brushed away the remaining snow.

            “Thanks,” he muttered. “Let’s keep moving. It’s cold.”

            “ _You’re_ cold? Who just got half buried into a snow bank?” Lance asked. Keith looked down at his feet.

            “Sorry.” Lance squinted.

            “Okay, Keith, dude, you know I’m joking, right?” Keith’s shoulders hunched.

            “Sorry.”

            “Aaaand I don’t even know what that apology was for. Keith, c’mon, man, I would go so far as to say we were actually having fun together just now. I didn’t hate you even a little bit.” Lance waited for a reply, but Keith was quiet, fidgeting with his purse. He bit his tongue trying to give him time, but Keith wouldn’t even turn around until Lance finally sighed, deflated, and picked up his own bag. “Whatever. We still need to find that present for Pidge so come on.”

            Keith fell into step behind him, staying ominously silent. Lance clenched the hand holding the little bag with his present for Hunk into a fist, trying to warm up his numbed fingers, and ducked into the nearest shop they hadn’t yet explored without paying any attention to what was in the window. Per usual, the instant they were inside an eager Kippian manager came running up to them, two tails thumping with excitement. Lance found it easier, talking to them, to ignore the silent presence at his back.

            Following the Kippians through their store with Keith trailing like a shadow several feet behind him, Lance suddenly reached out and snagged something off a shelf. After inspecting it for a moment while the curious Kippians looked on, he turned and triumphantly waved it at Keith, who fell back a step trying not to get whacked in the face.

            “This! For Pidge! How about this?” Keith, after a moment, managed to grab it out of Lance’s hand so he could actually get a look at it. It was a simple leather bag with a red pattern stitched into its edges and straps resembling a backpack. “Pidge is always trying to carry around more tech than all of us, this could be something for her to keep all that extra junk in.” Keith continued to inspect it for a moment, then nodded and smiled a tiny little smile that made Lance’s heart melt inside his chest, but he talked his way incompetently through it. “Great! Sweet! Awesome! Cool, let me just—” He turned back to the Kippians and began asking about price, complimenting them on the design on the bag, steadfastly _not_ looking at the gorgeous boy with the smile to rival stars behind him until his concentration was shattered by the sound of his name.

            Lance jumped, cutting off mid-sentence to turn and face Keith, who was holding up a small decorative bowl and some sort of mallet or handle. Keith, frowning, gently ran the mallet along the outside of the bowl. A soft, bell-like noise filled the shop. Lance stared at Keith, who had closed his eyes to listen to the sound, and shrugged helplessly.

            “I’m lost,” he admitted. Keith opened his eyes and grabbed the side of the bowl between his fingers, stopping the sound.

            “It’s almost exactly like a singing bowl. People use them for meditation, they’re, um, Buddhist, originally, I’m pretty sure? The point is Shiro used to have one and I bet he misses it.”

            “Oh, sweet,” Lance grinned. “You should totally get that for him, then.” He started to turn back to the Kippian, when Keith held the bowl out to him. He paused, staring a Keith’s outstretched hands. “Um… what?”

            “You should give it to him.” Lance reeled for a second, and shook his head.

            “No, you found it, it should be your present!”

            “You’ve found every present for me so far and you’ve barely done any of your own shopping. This should be your gift to Shiro. He’ll love it.”

            “Oh, come on, man, I don’t mind—”

            “Please.” Lance stopped talking, biting down on his lip. Keith, for some reason, was refusing to make eye contact with him, but still holding the bowl outstretched towards him.

            “…Okay,” Lance said, reaching up to take the bowl. He let his hands overlap with Keith’s and stayed there for a long moment, probably far too long, without pulling the bowl away, until Keith looked up with wide eyes and a flushed face and stared straight at him. Lance, whose heart suddenly accelerated faster than his lion ever had, yanked the bowl away in panic, leaving Keith’s hands comically outstretched and cupping empty air, his mouth slightly open, with surprise or arrested words Lance didn’t know. He turned back to the Kippians trying to ignore the heat in his cheeks and praying the aliens had no idea that what they had just witnessed was anything out of the ordinary for humans.

            They left the shop carrying silence between them. All the quiet was beginning to make Lance itch. He wished Hunk or Pidge or even Shiro were there to give him someone to bounce banter off of, someone who could help him stuff the valleys of their conversation with white noise talk, nothing important or weighty or emotional, just the soothing sound of voices and small laughs to fill the time.

            “So… I guess we should split, now, right?” he said as they stepped back onto the path. White clouds were beginning to cover the sky again, and a few flakes of snow drifted through the air. The sun hovered just above the horizon, sending long shadows looming across the town. “You have gifts for Hunk and Pidge now, and you still have to buy _my_ gift, and you better get me something awesome after I walked around all day shopping with you.” _Oh, my God, could he shut his damn mouth for two seconds?_ Keith paused. “I’m kidding, man, I’m kidding,” Lance flashed him a grin. “But yeah I guess this is—”

            “I still need to find a gift for Shiro. Since you’re giving him the bowl.” Keith said. “I…” He trailed off, leaving Lance to puzzle over what he meant.

            “So you… want to continue shopping together?”

            “Well I’m not likely to be much help to you but…

            “What? You already picked out a way better gift for Shiro than I would ever have found. C’mon, Keith, don’t sell yourself short.” Keith twisted the bag with his presents in his hands.

            “That was lucky. I don’t… I don’t know how to buy presents for people. I just don’t… have any experience.” Lance turned to look at him, frowning. Their feet had continued to wander down the path as they talked, taking them past houses lighting candles in their windows as the sun slipped lower.

            “What do you mean?” he asked quietly.

            “I’m an orphan, Lance. I was in and out of foster families my entire life, when I wasn’t running away. I didn’t really stay anywhere long enough to have someone to buy presents for. I’ve only celebrated Christmas, um, three times I think? And I never bothered keeping track of people’s birthdays when I knew I wouldn’t still be there next year.” Lance had stopped in his tracks. Keith, realizing he’d gotten ahead, turned back questioningly.

            “Keith. You’ve only celebrated Christmas _three times_?” Keith shrugged.

            “I think? One of them I don’t really remember, but I think the foster home put on a celebration for all really little kids one time when I was four or five. Then once when I was nine, and once when I was twelve. That last one was awful, the family were all super devout Catholics and made me kneel in a church for like two hours on Christmas Eve and then spent the whole day talking to me about my sins and how I should remember to be like the Christ child and behave in school if I ever wanted to amount to anything. I ran away before we got to Easter.”

            “You’ve only celebrated Christmas and been able to enjoy it _one time_? Keith. This is tragic. This is a _tragedy_. If I’d known that no _way_ would I have let Shiro give us this four days crap. You deserve an entire advent season with cookies and reindeer antlers and dumb holiday jingles.” Keith laughed, shocking Lance to the soles of his feet.

            “Seriously? This has already been the best Christmas I’ve ever had.” Lance took a step closer, and another, and started to reach out a hand. Keith was watching him, completely still, as Lance hesitated, caught fighting between his heart and his head, until he grabbed Keith’s arm and pulled him close, reveling in the warmth of proximity, not daring to look Keith in the face.

            “Let’s get you a present to give Shiro,” he said, and started walking before he could regret anything. He had to drag Keith a little before he started moving his feet, but then he fell into step beside him, arms linked, and it must have been Lance’s imagination but he even felt like he pressed a little closer against his side. To cover his nervousness, Lance started to sing softly.

            “It’s the mooost wonderful tiiiiime of the year… with the kids jingle-belling and everyone telling you be of good cheeeer… It’s the most wonderful time, of the year… C’mon, Keith, sing with me!”

            “I told you I don’t sing,” Keith said, not looking at him.

            “And I told _you_ , _everyone_ sings at Christmas. What’s the matter, you don’t know the song? We can do another one. How about, Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree, for me. Been an awful good girl Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight.” Keith looked at him now, and there was a world of judgment in his eyes.

            “What,” he asked, “are you singing?”

            “It’s a _Christmas song_! Eartha Kitt sang it!”

            “I will leave you alone in the snow.”

            “Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” Lance said, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Give me credit, at least it wasn’t Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer, or I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas—”

            “I refuse to believe those are real songs.” Lance slapped Keith’s arm.

            “Just because _you_ haven’t heard them!” Keith was unmoved. “You really are culturally illiterate, mullet.”

            “I’ve seen _Star Wars_.”

            “If you hadn’t, Red would have left you to float away into space when you found her. You can’t come have adventures in space if you haven’t seen _Star Wars_ , it’s not allowed.”

            “Real mature, Lance.”

            “Hey waitwaitwaitwaitwait—” Lance dragged them back a few steps and pointed in a window. “ _There_. That.” Keith looked in the window, and then bestowed another wonderfully judgmental look on Lance.

            “I am not buying Shiro the Kippian equivalent of a sexy leg lamp.” Lance almost fell over from laughter, hanging on to Keith’s arm to keep his balance. Keith stood still as a stone, watching all of this with the best side-eye Lance had ever seen. Just as he was about to recover, Lance took another look in the window and burst into fresh laughter. “What in the universe is so funny?”

            “I just… how can you not… just _look_ at it,” he gasped. “And your _face_! And just… imagine Shiro… _Shiro_ … with _that_ …” Keith’s rock-hard judgment face started to crack as Lance continued to laugh uncontrollably until he too started to chuckle, and then to laugh, and then both of them were holding onto one another trying to keep their balance as they shook with mirth, and then one of them slipped on a spot of ice and brought the other tumbling down with him, and then they were both lying in the snow laughing, and laughing, and laughing, until it was too cold to stay there anymore and they had to help each other to their feet, red in the face from laughter and cold with tears streaming down their cheeks and snow in their hair. They were hanging onto each other’s forearms, breathing in gasps. Lance reached over to knock some snow off Keith’s shoulder and found his hand brushing across his hair again. Keith stiffened slightly, and then very hesitantly reached out.

            “You’ve… you’ve also got…” Lance stayed perfectly still, terrified of breaking the moment, as Keith’s hand inched closer to his head. “I’ll just…” Keith’s hand brushed softly across his hair, sending snow tumbling to the ground. Lance’s eyes fluttered closed for an instant, and when he opened them again Keith was inches from his face, looking at him as if Lance was the only thing in the world. The moment lingered for one second, two seconds, three wonderful, heartbreaking seconds, and then both of them stepped back, letting go and looking away. Lance, typically, was the first to break the silence.

            “I am _so_ getting that for Pidge,” he said.

            As luck would have it, Keith found a present he liked for Shiro in the same shop – a cheap but pretty painting illustrating a sunrise that looked no different from a sunrise on Earth – and they emerged triumphant, Lance carrying the wrapped-up Kippian leg lamp under one arm with the goofiest grin on his face.

            “She might zap me with her bayard again but it is _worth it_ ,” he said. “I mean, she’s gonna think it’s hilarious. But she also might zap me with her bayard.”

            “I’ll defend you,” Keith deadpanned.

            “My hero,” Lance said, making mock bedroom eyes at Keith. Realizing what he was doing, he whipped his gaze away so fast he didn’t get to see Keith’s reaction. He coughed awkwardly. “Um, I mean, I guess we ought to split, now, huh? You have all your gifts except one for me, and I need to find one for you…” There was a long pause before Keith answered.

            “…I guess we should.” They continued walking in silence for another few seconds, neither of them making any signs of peeling off in another direction, not even headed in the right direction – they had wound up on the edge of town, where trees started to replace the buildings, and were only walking farther into the woods – but a part of Lance he was trying very hard to squash only wanted to look for an excuse to not let this end, to continue walking with him, to reach out and grab his arm again, to make him laugh again. He risked a sideways look at Keith, who was as unreadable as always, keeping his eyes towards the ground, watching his steps with an unrealistic amount of concentration, until he finally, for once, broke the silence. “Hey, Lance…” Lance held his breath, not daring to interrupt, not daring to open his mouth and let the words come flying out lest they stop what Keith wanted to say. “Thank you. For helping me. Thank you for… thank you for today. I had fun. A lot of fun, actually.” He looked up at Lance, and there was that smile, so joyful and open that Lance wanted to cry. It stopped his feet, and he put out a hand against a tree for support. The sun had dropped below the horizon, leaving the two moons to illuminate the chilly night, and sending silvery beams slipping through the trees in broken slats.

            “I… I had fun too,” Lance managed, trying to let his smile say everything he couldn’t, wouldn’t, didn’t dare say aloud. He struggled for the words that usually came so easily, trying to pick and choose because _I had fun too_ sounded so woefully inadequate but what he wanted to say was far, far too much. He looked up into the trees, through the bare branches and up to the moon, as if that might give him answers. Except, the branches weren’t entirely bare. “Um… Keith…”

            “Yes?”

            “Am I… am I crazy or is that…?” He pointed upward. Something resembling a shrub perched on the branches of the tree above him. “I’m hallucinating, right?” Keith looked up, following his finger, and then looked back at Lance in consternation.

            “What?”

            “Isn’t that…?” Lance swallowed. He felt completely ridiculous, and he was probably wrong, of course he _was_ wrong, it was an alien planet so it couldn’t be the same thing, but it sure as hell looked like it, and maybe, just maybe, this was a sign, a Christmas miracle, and maybe he ought to jump headfirst and risk everything because maybe it would be worth it. “Um, I’m probably insane, but doesn’t that look like mistletoe to you?” Keith frowned.

            “What’s mistletoe?” Lance’s entire world cracked like glass.

            “NOTHING!” he yelled, scrambling out from underneath the tree. “It’s nothing – it’s just a plant – an Earth plant – I mean – DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT PLEASE.” Keith was staring at him, open-mouthed. “I’LL SEE YOU BACK AT THE CASTLE OKAY BYE.” He ran away as fast as he could, stumbling through the snow, leaving Keith behind.

 

***

 

            Hunk found him hours later, facedown on his bed.

            “Lance? Are you okay?” Lance didn’t even bother answering that question. He heard Hunk close the door behind him and settle into a chair across from him. “What happened?” Lance still didn’t do anything except press his face further into his pillow, wondering vaguely if he could suffocate himself. “Lance.” There was another long silence. “Talk to me.”

            “I either,” Lance said, his voice muffled by the pillow, “just got the most hardcore rejection of my life, and I’m including the time that Sarah Janowski threw a flaming drink in my face, or Keith really is the most culturally illiterate person I’ve ever encountered and I was really, really rude to him, but either way I’ve made a bigger idiot of myself than I even thought possible, and if you love me at all you will never ask me to relive this day ever again.” There was a pause.

            “Is this why Keith asked me what mistletoe is, and also to come check on you because he thought you were angry at him?” Lance sat bolt upright. Hunk had pulled the chair up next to the bed and was watching him with an expression of supreme patience.

            “So he really _didn’t_ know?” he asked wildly, but before Hunk could even answer he groaned again and flopped back onto the pillow. “I don’t know if that’s better or worse. Oh God, Hunk, I screwed up _everything_ today. You need to find a new Blue Paladin. I’m not leaving this bed ever again. I’m not ever going to be able to look him in the face ever again.” Lance heard Hunk sigh and chuckle softly.

            “Well, that might be hard, since he’s standing outside the door hoping you’ll come talk to him.” Lance shot back up again, looking at the door as if expecting Keith to come bursting through it.

            “ _Make him go away_ ,” he hissed. “I can’t talk to him – Hunk, you don’t understand, it started with his hair, the stupid snow in his hair, and then I spent the day with him and… look, it doesn’t matter, but please just—” Hunk held up a hand.

            “No way, Lance,” he said. “This is for your own good.”

            “Wait, _don’t_ —!” Hunk had already pulled open the door. Keith was standing there with his arms crossed, looking determinedly everywhere except for Hunk or Lance.

            “He’s all yours,” Hunk told Keith, and was gone before either one of them could get him to stay. Lance hid his face in his hands.

            “Um.”

            “I’m sorry,” he muttered. There was no response. The silence dragged on so long he began to wonder if Keith had left, and peeked out between his fingers. He was still standing there, back in his normal red jacket, fiddling with the cuffs. His face was red.

            “Can I give you your Christmas gift early?” he burst out suddenly. Lance jumped. Still looking through his hands, he nodded slightly. Keith stuck out a hand, and Lance looked at it uncomprehendingly. “You have to… We have to go outside,” Keith muttered. He dropped his hand. “We don’t have to hold hands, sorry, that was… sorry.” He turned on his heel and marched off, leaving Lance to follow. Taking a deep breath, he snagged his jacket off a chair and ran after Keith.

            Snowflakes continued to drift through the air, twirling on the breeze, but it still wasn’t as cold as that first night. Keith marched through the snow with a soldier’s determination, leaving Lance to catch up. He stumbled after him, flipping up the hood on his jacket, wondering where in the world Keith was going. He didn’t stop until he got a little ways into the woods. Lance approached hesitantly. Keith’s fists were clenched at his sides, and he had his head down, looking away from Lance. His entire body was quivering with tension.

            “Uh… hey, Keith, buddy, you didn’t bring me out here to murder me and hide my body in the woods, did you?” Lance laughed nervously. “What… what does this have to do with—?”

            “Could you just,” Keith interrupted through gritted teeth. “I need to… Look, I still don’t sing, okay? And, and I don’t know most of those songs that you’ve been singing, I mean I’ve heard some of them but I don’t, I don’t know the words, and in general my singing is… I don’t do singing in front of other people, okay? Which is why I needed to come out here because I can’t… I can’t do this if other people are listening, but…” Lance stared at Keith, wondering if he was understanding correctly.

            “Keith, are you going to—?”

            “Just. Please just. Maybe you could close your eyes or something?” Keith asked. He wasn’t even looking at him, but Lance closed his eyes anyway.

            “Okay,” he said softly. There was a long enough pause that Lance was tempted to peek and make sure, again, that Keith hadn’t up and left, but he kept his eyes shut, waiting, and then, suddenly, there was singing. It was deep and soft, and barely audible at first, but there was warmth to it, a physical warmth that seemed to lodge in Lance’s chest. Keith’s voice built and grew and filled the air until Lance forgot everything. He forgot he was on an alien planet, he forgot about the Galra, he forgot about Voltron, he forgot about Christmas, he forgot his own damn name, he forgot everything except the sound of Keith’s voice. He stopped shivering, stopped moving, almost stopped breathing, listening, trying to drink in every note. When the song faded, he didn’t dare open his eyes, still, didn’t move an inch until Keith said his name.

            “Lance, you can open your eyes now.” He did, slowly, to find Keith standing in front of him, looking at him in fear and hope and Lance found no words ready on his tongue because there were no words for what he had just experienced. He could only reach out and catch Keith’s hand with his own, speechless, eyes shining and hoping to God that Keith knew that when it came to him, speechlessness was the highest compliment he could possibly give. They stood there for Lance had no idea how long – seconds? minutes? an hour? – until Keith finally groaned.

            “You idiot, would you just – just do _something_ , please, I can’t—”

            Because apparently speechlessness was not enough, because apparently Lance the loquacious had completely run out of words, and because at this point he was beginning to believe this was neither an elaborate prank nor a secret murder plot, Lance leaned in and did the only thing he had left to do, and kissed him.

            The kiss was long and soft and warm and Lance was drinking in Keith’s heat, pressing his body up closer, grabbing the back of Keith’s head and running his fingers through that mullet, that beautifully soft and long mullet. Keith’s hands were on his hips, pulling him in, eliminating every last bit of space between them, and he was kissing back, he was kissing back and Lance felt his heart swell in his chest far beyond anything he could contain, and the only logical thing to do was to keep sharing it with Keith. When the finally broke for air, arms still wrapped around each other, they rested their foreheads against each other, so close Lance could feel the warmth of Keith’s breath on his face. They stayed there for a moment, until Lance’s words finally came back.

            “I got you gloves,” he whispered. “For Christmas. I got you gloves with fingers.” Tears ran down his face, from happiness or the cold or the sheer ridiculousness of the situation he wasn’t sure.

            “I don’t care,” Keith laughed quietly. “If I can kiss you again, I don’t care if you’re giving me a handful of snow.” Just to prove a point, Lance grabbed a handful of snow off the nearest branch and smashed it into Keith’s face, sending him reeling backward, cursing and spluttering at him, and then tackled him down into the snow, pinning his arms and legs. Keith lay there, looking at him with his eyebrows raised, as he leaned down close.

            “I win,” Lance grinned. And this time they closed the gap, and kissed again.

 

***

 

            Christmas Day went by in a chaos of confused traditions. Pidge insisted that they save a present each for Christmas dinner when Lance was adamant that all presents should be opened first thing in the morning, as soon as everyone was awake. Coran enthusiastically presented eggnog he and Hunk had collaborated to create but Hunk knocked it out of Shiro’s hand when he tried to drink it before dinner. Lance did try to get them to go caroling to the lions but was shot down. The Kippians were invited up in the evening for drinks and a bit of a party, all of them oohing and ahhing over the decorations, but Pidge shooed them all out before it got too late so the Paladins could have ‘family’ time. They ended up sitting amidst piles of discarded wrapping paper and eating something reminiscent of pumpkin pie, admiring the tree for one last night, since Allura insisted they had to take it down before they left. It was only then, in the quiet of the evening, that the others seemed to notice Lance curled up against Keith’s side, and their fingers intertwined.

            “You two seem _friendlier_ than usual,” Pidge said with a grin.

            “It’s a Christmas miracle,” Lance said. “Turns out I don’t hate Keith after all. Turns out he’s sort of okay, actually.”

            “Sort of?” Keith asked.

            “Yeah. You’re still culturally illiterate.”

            “You’re still an idiot.”

            “But I’m such a cute idiot.”

            “Shut up.” Keith leaned down and kissed him, to a wolf whistle from Pidge they both ignored. “Merry Christmas, idiot.”

            “Merry Christmas, mullet.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's 13k I'm CRYING I'm so sorry I don't think this is how Secret Santas are supposed to WORK. **The minimum was 750 words.** I'm so sorry but I was listening to Christmas music and I got excited and I tend to overwrite anyway I REALLY HOPE THIS IS OKAY.
> 
> Anyway, to all the rest of you, I hope you enjoyed some stupidly long Klance Christmas fluff. Leave a comment if you're so inclined and tell me to learn to write actual one-shots.
> 
> For reference, if you haven't seen Mean Girls, this is the dance that Lance was doing to Jingle Bell Rock: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h81UOjlFmMs Keith never stood a chance. Leave the poor boy alone, Lance, he just wants to be gay in peace.
> 
> Again, I hope you enjoyed it AND I REALLY AM SORRY IT'S SO LONG


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